


Sugar, Sugar

by QuickLikeLight, volatilehearted (anomalagous)



Series: Bring Your Daylight, Bring Your Dark [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Domestic, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves, Baking, Cooking, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Nurse!Scott, References to Prior Marijuana Use, Smut, deputy!Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 12:41:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4607148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickLikeLight/pseuds/QuickLikeLight, https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalagous/pseuds/volatilehearted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“So, when you said baking was a science…” Stiles trailed off, staring at the mixing bowl with his lips pursed. “Are we talking biology, where life thrives despite barely habitable conditions, or are we talking chemistry which -”</p><p>“Which we both failed,” Scott finished, dipping his finger into the bowl and pulling it out caked with what was supposed to be brownie mix. He grimaced as he reached for a towel to wipe off the sludge. “I don’t think this is what it’s supposed to look like, babe.”</p><p>Or, a look at the domestic adventures of Scott McCall and Stiles Stilinski, best friends in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sugar, Sugar

**Author's Note:**

> This is the Domestic Skittles AU that probably everybody wants right now because canon is awful to us. This chapter specifically was commissioned by [LC](http://anomalagous.tumblr.com) who wanted fluffy smutty goodness with no angst and no interruptions. I am happy to comply, dear. 
> 
> This series is essentially a sequence of loosely tied stand-alone chapters which will fulfill prompts from [this meme](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com/post/110161262146/cuddle-up-a-little-closer-a-domesticityintimacy). Each chapter can be read on its own as a complete story, or they can be read all together when I finish writing / posting them as a whole. So, if you want to keep up with this one, be sure to subscribe! 
> 
> The beautiful art for this 'verse was created by [aeroplaneblues](http://aeroplaneblues.tumblr.com) and gifted to me by my dear friends Brit, Essbee, and Kate, last Galentine's Day. It can be reblogged [here](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com/post/110540312516/differintegrate-a-few-days-ago-my-lovely-friend).

 

“So, when you said baking was a science…” Stiles trailed off, staring at the mixing bowl with his lips pursed. “Are we talking biology, where life thrives despite barely habitable conditions, or are we talking chemistry which -”

“Which we both failed,” Scott finished, dipping his finger into the bowl and pulling it out caked with what was supposed to be brownie mix. He grimaced as he reached for a towel to wipe off the sludge. “I don’t think this is what it’s supposed to look like, babe.”

“Well, what do we do to fix it?” Stiles stared at the recipe cards he’d snagged from Melissa earlier that day, but there was nothing on them that said anything about how to salvage your batter when it looked vaguely like wet cement.

“How am I supposed to know?” Scott asked, boosting himself up on the counter. He let his feet swing casually, heels knocking against the cabinet doors until Stiles stilled him with one hand braced over his shins.

“Deposit,” he said mildly, re-reading the recipe again.

“Right,” Scott sighed, head falling back to bang against the upper cabinets. They both winced.

“You’re the one that signed us up for this bake sale,” Stiles reminded him, reaching up to rub at Scott’s head where it had bounced against the hard wood.

“I thought we’d just, I dunno, buy cookies from the store or something! How was I supposed to know the Sheriff’s office was going to be so picky about their treats?” Scott grumbled, head nuzzling into Stiles’ hand anyway. He’d had a long week, five grueling shifts at the hospital in a row and a double today, and with the bake sale in the morning his generally mild temper was close to the surface. “Besides, I thought you could cook. You tell me all the time I’d be better off eating your cooking than going out.”

“Cooking, yes,” Stiles pointed at the bowl of sludge. “Baking? No. Not at all. The last thing I baked was pot brownies sophomore year of college, and I made those with a mix. Which, incidentally, I bought from my _drug dealer_.”

“Well, we do have her number. Lydia could probably convince her to come help you out, you know. Maybe mix up a special batch one more time?” Scott perked up. Stiles had to stop and take inventory, just catching the sly smile on Scott’s face as he added, “Those brownies were amazing. I bet they’d sell like crazy.”

“I’m sure they would. Bet Donovan would love to catch me selling, too,” Stiles grunted, running a hand through his hair.

“Still rough going, huh?” Scott chucked him under the chin, dipping down to press a fast, chaste kiss to Stiles’ mouth. “Don’t worry. You’ll both get used to it. He’s still adjusting, and you’re -”

“Horrible to work with, I know,” Stiles finished for him. Scott scowled.

“I was going to say ‘fresh, new, and up to date on law changes that have occurred in the past fifteen years’ but I guess ‘horrible to work with’ pretty much covers all of that.”

Stiles pushed him away with gentle hands, rolling his eyes. Scott mimed falling off the counter, arms wheeling in the air.

“Would serve you right. You’re supposed to be on my side.” He wanted to be huffy, but when Scott shoved up behind him, wrapping warm arms around his waist and pulling Stiles’ back against his chest, it was sort of impossible.

“I am on your side. Always. Forever. Unless you try to bake those brownies. If you put those in our oven, I’m going to have to go down to the station and throw myself on Donovan’s mercy.”

“He’d probably take you,” Stiles laughed. “I’m sure you’d be very happy together, you and that old -” Stiles broke off with a yelp as Scott pinched his side, squirming between Scott and the counter but not hard enough to get anywhere.

“Watch it,” Scott laughed, kissing at the top of Stiles’ spine where his shirt collar met his skin. “Tell you what. You figure out what to do about the bake sale, and when you’re done, I’ll show you just how _on your side_ I am.”

“If that was supposed to be hot…” Stiles grumbled, until one of Scott’s hands snuck down to grab at his crotch, playfully slipping inside the waistband of his sweats. “Oh. Ah. Okay. Uh, yeah. I can - I can do that.”

“Thought so.”  

Stiles stared down at the bowl, brain running fast as Scott’s hands toyed idly with the elastic of his boxers. The batter was a disaster, he was out of chocolate chips, and there was no way he could convince Allison to come bake brownies for him, pot or no pot. There was only one thing left to do.

 

“Try ‘em,” Stiles held a little square to Scott’s lips, sticky between his fingers. Scott stirred from where he sat in their secondhand recliner, groggy from an impromptu nap.

“Stiles - what - what time is it?” he blinked toward the clock, but couldn’t see it without his reading glasses.

“1:39 AM. Here, try this and tell me what you think. I think they’re okay but I need a second opinion and Lydia won’t return my texts.” Stiles pushed the little square more insistently against Scott’s mouth, until his lips parted and pulled it in, tongue darting out to lick Stiles’ fingers.

“Wow.” Scott chewed, eyes slowly widening. “Wow. These are - these are really great, Stiles. I thought you said you couldn’t bake!”

“I can’t,” Stiles shrugged, pointing at the box of cereal on the counter. “Rice Krispy Treats are the purview of non-bakers everywhere. I made ‘em in the microwave.”

“You made… in the… why’ve you never made these before?” Scott stuttered, capturing Stiles’ hand with his own and sucking the sticky sweetness from Stiles’ fingers. Stiles wished he could say it was a seduction attempt, but the truth was that the combination of melted butter and marshmallows was more than enough to catch Scott’s sweet tooth. Still, just because it wasn’t calculated didn’t make it not hot - actually, Stiles thought as he felt Scott lick down his palm, watched as Scott’s petal-pink mouth opened over his messy hand, it was probably even hotter.

“Like it?” Stiles asked, voice all gravel and grumble with the lateness of the hour and the arousal burning through his belly, up into his throat.

“S’good,” Scott nodded, sucking Stiles’ thumb into his mouth. He caught Scott’s eye, holding it there as Scott swirled his tongue and hollowed his cheeks, face heating as Stiles watched him. “It’s - ah - _so_ good.”

The breathy hitch of his voice was probably faked but Stiles didn’t care, _couldn’t_ , not with Scott’s mouth hot and wet around him, Scott’s body loose and warm in the chair. His basketball shorts rode low on his hips, and he’d never put a shirt back on after the shower he’d nabbed earlier, while Stiles was out getting supplies. It was a scene out of a wet dream, Scott’s smooth, bare chest rising and falling with each deep breath, his hips hitching with every long suck on Stiles’ hand. It was - wow. Way too much, actually, and resistance had never been one of Stiles’ strong suits. Stiles climbed into his lap, straddling Scott’s thighs with his own and praying to whatever gods might be listening that the recliner wouldn’t break.

“I think you, ah -” Stiles interrupted his own sentence with a kiss, darting in to lick at the sweetness on Scott’s lips, “I think you owe me something.”

“Owe you, huh?” Scott asked, pulling off of Stiles’ hand long enough to speak before darting back in with his tongue, squirming it into the sensitive web between Stiles’ thumb and index finger.

“Mmm,” Stiles agreed, pushing his hand forward as Scott sucked gently at the thin skin. “Have to show me,” he said, rocking his hips against Scott’s stomach, flat and soft and sleep-warm. He supported his weight on the other hand, holding himself up off of Scott’s chest with care, never  “Show me you’re on my - ungh. On my side.”

“C’mon then,” Scott purred, squirming lazily underneath him. “Unless the side you want me on is the bottom.”

“Hmmm, _tempting_ ,” Stiles grinned, tongue dragging against his lips. The thought of getting Scott underneath him, opening him up for Stiles to sink inside, hot and silky all around his cock, made his sweats tent a little farther. He had wanted Scott’s mouth, the soft, wet pull of it on his skin, the suction and the want, Scott’s tongue working him with practiced movements, ones they learned together, on each other. But then he saw the tell-tale flutter of Scott’s eyelashes, the saccharine sweetness of his smile sliding off into the blissful half-awareness that usually preceded a twelve hour nap, and decided he wanted something else entirely.

He pushed Scott toward their bed, laughing as Scott flopped over, barely catching himself against the scratchy comforter.

“Ready to have your way with me?” Scott asked, wriggling his ass in the air, and Stiles almost second guessed himself again, but -

“Roll over,” he grunted, smacking Scott soundly on the ass and then shaking his hand out immediately afterward. “Scotty. Baby. Eat more. Squat less.”

“You said my ass was fine,” Scott whined, squirming onto his back and sliding out of his shorts. They slipped down easily over the skin, revealing the lack of Scott’s usual boxer briefs underneath, and that was enough to make Stiles need a moment - several moments, even - to catch his breath.

“Kay, yeah, it is,” Stiles agreed, bending down to run his tongue along the join of Scott’s thigh and his groin, breathing hot over Scott’s erection and watching the chillbumps form on his skin. “Your everything is fine. Ass especially. Asspecially.”

“You’re awful. You’re a horrible human being. I can’t belie-”

Stiles cut him off by sliding two fingers into Scott’s mouth, and Scott’s dick into his own.

“Kay,” Scott agreed, voice muffled by the way he was trying to slick Stiles’ fingers with his spit, running his tongue over them in a dirty replica of the things Stiles was doing to Scott’s dick. Stiles sucked gently, not wanting to send him over the edge, just wanting to get him good and primed for the main event. He popped his fingers out of Scott’s mouth and tried to tug his sweats down one handed, slipping forward slightly and gagging himself on Scott’s cock.

“Hey, whoa, Stiles,” Scott grunted, pushing him up and letting Stiles catch his breath. “Careful babe.”

“Sorry,” Stiles swiped the back of a hand over his mouth and undressed as quickly as he could without falling over or braining himself on the headboard.

“What’s the rush?” Scott asked, digging the lube out of the nightstand drawer. “Gotta prep me anyway -”

“Nope,” Stiles grabbed the bottle popping the “P” sound. Scott’s eyes went wide and a little glazed as he watched Stiles slick his own fingers, easing two inside of himself from behind.

“Oh fuck,” Scott groaned, dick twitching as Stiles stretched himself, too quick to be pleasurable but still not quick enough.

“Get ready,” Stiles breathed through the discomfort of the stretch, nodding toward the lube. “I’m - want it to - almost okay? Just -”

“Yeah, yeah, got it -” Scott nodded, breathless, and coated his dick with lube, hand stroking himself in long, slow pulls as he watched the contortions of Stiles’ face. He started to sit up. “Do you want me to -”

“No.” Stiles pushed him back down with his clean hand to Scott’s chest, settling Scott’s head on Stiles’ pillow. “You just stay right there.”

Sinking down on top of Scott was an experience every time - the hot, heavy push of Scott’s dick inside him, the way his thighs trembled and his hips flexed up automatically, the way he had to breathe through it, invite air into his lungs the same way he invited Scott into his body. He shook with the strain of it, struggling to sink down all the way with the minimal stretching, until Scott’s knees came up behind him, stopping his downward progress, and Scott pulled him forward onto all fours.

“Kiss me,” Scott whispered, eyes wide and dark with lust. They kissed with easy intimacy, the kind gained after years of having been each others’ everything, as sweet and simple as “I pick you,” every day, over and over until it was no longer a question. Scott’s hips shifted up, pushing further inside, and Stiles settled back, letting the soothing rub of Scott’s hands on his sides, of Scott’s thighs against his ass, relax him until the push was easy.

“Fuck me,” Stiles moaned against his mouth, and Scott laughed back.

“What do you think I’m doing?” Still, he kissed Stiles harder, pumped his hips up further, body rolling in delicious waves off the bed until it was all Stiles could do to hold on. Every small, smooth thrust brought them closer together, until their chests were smashed together, heat building between them in slick strokes. Scott shifted, pumping shallowly until suddenly it was like Christmas lights, the May Day parade, the Fourth of July behind Stiles’ eyes and running along all his nerves, making him squirm and keen, rock back on Scott’s cock over and over.

“Yes, yes, fuck, yeah, Scotty - give me - ungh, yes -”

“That’s it, yeah.” Scott bit his own lip, face red with exertion and sweat beading at his brow. “Come on - so - ugh, fuck, Stiles, so hot.”

Scott’s hand snaked down between them, pumping hard and fast at Stiles’ dick, too familiar, too good to ignore. His pleasure built inside him, thrumming out from his gut into the rest of his body, coalescing into a hot, bright charge between them.

“Come on, come on,” Scott encouraged, hips thrusting fast and smooth, meeting Stiles’ hips in a dirty grind on every stroke. “Come for me babe, come on me, come on, want it so bad, love you so much -”

Stiles pressed his mouth to Scott’s neck as he came, trying to stifle the loud groan of it in Scott’s skin. His insides quaked, muscles pulling taut around Scott’s cock, so tight he could almost imagine he felt it as Scott bit his own lip, whimpered and thrust up one last time.

“Love you,” Stiles grunted as he rolled off of Scott’s body, head settling on Scott’s pillow.

“Mmhmm,” Scott grinned lazily, swatting at the tissue box on the nightstand until he managed to nab handful and threw them at Stiles’ face.

“So romantic,” Stiles laughed, but the tired smile on Scott’s face was well worth knowing they’d both wake up sticky and disgusting in a few hours.

“Satisfied I’m not going to leave you for Donovan?” Scott asked, scooting close until Stiles huffed and rolled onto his side, letting Scott spoon up behind him.

“I dunno man. I mean, sure, he’s my dad’s age -”

“Ugh, Stiles -”

“But the guy’s not all that bad. You might want to wait to make any final decisions there, Scotty.”

“Is Donovan signed up for the bake sale?” Scott asked, voice unnaturally deep and lusty. He cracked about two thirds of the way through the sentence. Stiles laughed way before that.

“Nah, says old divorcees don’t have to bring baked goods to the station.”

“Well, that settles it then.” Scott pressed a gentle kiss to the back of Stiles’ neck. “My guy’s gorgeous, a good problem solver, _and_ …”

“And…?” Stiles asked, twining his fingers with Scott’s around his stomach and settling in for a few hours sleep before he had to go hawk his wares.

“And, he can cook. Sort of. In the microwave.”

“Ruining it, Scotty.”

“What I’m saying is,” Scott laughed, sound settling in Stiles’ ears as he started to drift off, “I don’t know why I’d ever be on anybody else’s side. I love yours too much.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Your feedback is valuable to all fic writers, and I'm no exception. If you enjoyed this story, please let me know.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](http://quicklikelight.tumblr.com).


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